


Virgin Prince

by Altais4



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Time, Hot Springs & Onsen, Loss of Virginity, M/M, POV Victor Nikiforov, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:22:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24677623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altais4/pseuds/Altais4
Summary: Yuuri has won a silver medal at the Grand Prix Final. They have exchanged rings. They even have kissed. Surely they are in a relationship now . . . or not?Yuuri's and Victor's first time. Victor's POV.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 12
Kudos: 190





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write/finish this for years. So, here you go! Enjoy!!

Victor settled back in the outdoor pool, warm water rippling against his muscles, trying to relax. Even though he hadn’t competed in the Final himself, he could feel Yuuri’s stress. He sighed softly as he sunk deeper into the dark water, the faint odour of sulphur tickling his nose.

Yuuri, who was sitting across from him, looked up at the gurgling sound. Now he caught Victor’s eye and smiled. Victor wasn’t quite sure what that meant. The last time they’d bathed together like that, they had been three — it had been the night before the Onsen on Ice competition. He’d simply grabbed Yuuri then, and pulled him close, until he’d gathered him snugly by his side. He remembered how Yuuri had stiffened at first, clearly not used to close contact, but relaxed later on. Probably overwhelmed by the proximity of his idol and also by Yuri who’d been watching them like an ill tempered kitten, getting hotter with jealousy every minute.

Now, they didn’t touch, didn’t play silly games.

Yuuri seemed quite contend to soak in the water, let the tension wash out of him. Victor tried to imagine how he must have missed this — Yu-topia, the hot springs — when he had been away for training in Detroit. Sometimes he found it hard to comprehend how homesick Yuuri must have felt, he who had always lived and trained in his homeland Russia.

Victor let his head fall back until water was brushing the fine hair at his neck. He closed his eyes, glad that he was here. Here with Yuuri.

After all those weeks of training, laughing and feasting on Katsudon, Hasetsu felt almost like home. _Almost_. There had been that dreadful moment in Barcelona, when Yuuri had told him he was going to quit figure skating. That Victor’s expertise was no longer needed. Sitting there on the bed in the faceless hotel room, the breathtaking view of the city opening up beneath him, he’d imagined going back to Russia alone. Training day in day out for the next competition, and the next.

He had never relied much on other people. This wasn’t what you needed to get to the top. So he’d naturally thought it was over . . . all of it. He should have known that Yuuri would be different. That this was real and he’d misunderstood. Victor smiled.

When he let his hand slip out of the water, he could see his ring glittering. Yuuri was wearing his too, Victor could see. Like a married couple, but rather not. Except for that one kiss, nothing had ever happened between them. Well, there had been a lot of touching, cuddling, Victor falling asleep on top of Yuuri. But that had been playful. Good for fun and good for the sport.

But now . . . finally alone together. Victor felt like he could just look at Yuuri all night. His little prince, his husband of sorts. His virgin prince.

“Victor?”

Victor’s head shot up and he blinked, surfacing from his thoughts, as if the hot fumes had drowsed him. He looked at Yuuri, who was watching him with big eyes. Victor cracked another smile, the radiant one. It was a strange relief when Yuuri smiled right back.

“Is everything okay?”

Victor nodded, ignoring the tight feeling in his chest. On impulse he stood up and sloshed through the dark pool of water. What was going on in Yuuri’s head? Did he really want a relationship, or was he just naive? Was Victor naive? Victor had tried to ask him. Not very seriously, mind. But Yuuri had always, endearingly, seemed at a loss. And then — not so much.

He took a deep breath. With his most brilliant smile he opened his arms wide. Below the surface he was hard.

Yuuri blushed. He looked back at him with warm eyes, averted his gaze just as quickly. He tried to get up, and slipped. But Victor was already there, catching him and pulling him close, his hands slithering across slippery skin, their cocks meeting briefly.

Lust surged through Victor, unexpected and very real. As real as Yuuri standing close, only a heartbeat away, smelling a bit of mould. They would do it. Move to St. Petersburg, train together. It would be hard. But harder still . . .

Victor tightened his hold, another minute step forward and they were touching, skin to skin. He could feel Yuuri’s breath against his own. With something akin to a sob he buried his head in the damp curve between neck and shoulder. He knew that Yuuri liked it. Liked him. Even if he became embarrassed every time he got near him. His cheeks would grow hot, the flush spreading across his whole body. Yuuri at 23 still had something youthful, innocent. It was something Victor had lost long ago.

He had been doing triple jumps since he was twelve. He got his quad toe at fourteen, then the sal and the lutz. And of course the flip. Always the same spins and jumps. What looked like art, the expression of emotion, was actually nothing more or less than supreme athleticism. Acquired with monotone training every day, living life from practise to practise.

“Victor, would you kiss me please?”

Victor nodded. His heart was pounding. He flicked a stray leave out of Yuuri’s glistering black hair with trembling fingers and cradled his face with his hands. Then, without thinking, he plunged in. Yuuri’s lips were just as full and sweet as he remembered them.

The moment they touched, Yuuri gave a little yelp before he flung his arms around Victor and pressed against him. Their noses bumped briefly, but the kiss was tender and gentle . . . just like Yuuri. As they clang together, water rippling softly against their hips, Victor became increasingly aware of his own nakedness, as well as Yuuri’s. “Let’s go inside,” he breathed into opened lips, never letting go.

Yuuri shivered in his arms, his expression so very serious. Victor’s first impulse was to kiss him again. Instead he took him by the hand and lead him gently through the water.

* * *

They walked hand in hand across the wooden floor, bathrobes quickly thrown on. After their first tentative kiss in the pool it seemed essential to go on, to not lose momentum, or so Victor thought, before the courage left them. Once outside the bathhouse, Yuuri had suddenly taken charge. He was holding tightly onto Victor’s hand, his eyes fixed ahead, and Victor couldn’t help but follow him through the moonlit hallways.

Past Victor’s room they went and further on to the narrow corridor with the paper screens leading to Yuuri’s old bedroom. Victor suddenly felt awkward, and not just because of the embarrassing memory of the night when Yuuri wouldn’t let him in. They never spent time together here. With its narrow bed, the writing desk full of school things complete with an old globe, it looked very much like a child’s room. Yuuri had abandoned it when he was 18 after all.

“Victor?” Yuuri’s gaze flitted back to him. A mixture of anxiety and resolve filled his eyes.

Too late Victor realised that he had let go of Yuuri’s hand when he’d stopped at the threshold. Instinctively he put a smile on his face. Yuuri nodded curtly. He went down on his knees and leaned forward, pulling a loose stack of papers out from under his bed.

“What’s that . . .?” Victor stepped nearer, intrigued despite himself. These were posters . . . figure skating posters. Lots of them, in a heap hastily stacked up. Victor leaned in to have a closer look. A dashing young man with silver hair was gazing back at him.

Victor stiffened. They were all of him.

Meanwhile, Yuuri was busy spreading out posters on the floor: Victor winning junior worlds, pictures from the beginning of his senior career, Victor at his home rink in simple training gear, and even the over the top photo depicting him on a throne like stool after he won his first world title. The journey in pictures through Victor’s figure skating life ended abruptly 5 years ago.

“Yuuri?” Victor sort of deflated as he viewed himself displayed like this, and his erection died likewise. He knew he had fans. It became obvious at big competitions and on the rare occasions he visited figure skating forums. But that? Yuuri was an elite skater too. You didn’t hang your rivals on the wall. Or your friends.

At the sound of his name, Yuuri glanced up at him. His breath was going shallowly and a blush was forming at the bridge of his nose. He seemed at a total loss how to go on.

Feeling a bit off balance himself, Victor crouched down next to him, their shoulders bumping softly. He took the nearest poster in hand, the one with him walking through St.-Petersburg. “I remember that one,” he said. “It was a fashion shoot, taken at 5 in the morning. I hadn’t been out for a walk in weeks. My housekeeper walks Makkachin most of the time,” he added ruefully.

“Oh.” Yuuri looked at the poster as if seeing it for the first time. “I didn’t know that.” And then, impulsively, he gripped the sleeve of Victor’s bathrobe. “Victor, I realise that I didn’t know you then. Not really . . . like I do now. But you’ve always been a part of my life.”

“See, here, this was at the Cup of Russia,” Victor continued, feeling a weird compulsion to explain himself. “I had a bad cold then. And my right ankle had been hurting all season. I really don’t know how I made it through that competition.”

“No, I loved the performance.” Yuuri didn’t let go of Victor’s arm. “It wasn’t perfect. But it was only the second time you showed that program in competition. I stayed up late just to watch you, even though I had practise in the morning.” Yuuri stopped, took a deep breath.

He looked at Victor imploringly, eyes wide and dark. “And if we . . . if we are going to be together, I don’t want to hide this from you. I’ve always looked up to you. It was you who showed me the love for skating.” He faltered.

Victor felt a lump in his throat, like always when Yuuri said things like that. So earnest, making himself vulnerable in a way Victor would never allow. He glanced sideways, at the mop of dark hair, little droplets of water trickling down, some of them grazing his long lashes. Carefully he put an arm around Yuuri’s shoulder, and leaned in, seeking his warmth.

He regarded the faded posters more closely, trying to see them through Yuuri’s eyes. The silver haired man, shimmering in the moonlight. The graceful lines of his jaw and neck. It was strange to watch himself like this. Being somebody else’s childhood dream.

People always thought that Victor was vain. And he loved standing in the limelight mind. But what they didn’t know was that when the season was over, competition won, he felt nothing much at all. Nothing but pain and the weight of hard work lying ahead of him and the fear that he couldn’t pull it off again . . . surprise people. That this time had been his last.

Victor stared at the images Yuuri had collected over the years, couldn’t pull himself away. Gently he reached out and traced the perfect line of his body with his finger. Yuuri was right. There was beauty in there.

“Thank you,” he whispered into the dark, not really knowing what he was thanking for. He flung his arms around Yuuri and held on tight, until they were sitting together in silence, huddled against each other on the tatami floor.


	2. Chapter 2

Makkachin greeted them with sleepy eyes and a wag of his tail. Giving Yuuri an apologetic look, Victor rushed over to the sofa where he had settled for the night. He wrapped one arm around his furry neck and buried his face in his curls. “Shhh Makka,” he whispered. He grabbed him by the collar and began to pull him gently outside. If they were going to do this more often, Makka needed to make new sleeping habits Victor thought ruefully.

When he turned back from the door, Yuuri had switched the bedside lamp on and was sitting on the edge of the double bed. He watched Victor with big bright eyes, blushing a little. “Do you think it’s right to take Makka outside?” He sounded worried.

“Would you like him to watch?” Victor was blushing too.

He flopped down on the mattress and pulled Yuuri with him to the middle of the bed. It could be so simple to just grab him and steal a kiss. Feeling unexpectedly shy, Victor knelt up beside Yuuri, not quite sure how to cross that particular bridge. Yuuri automatically scrambled up as well, until they were facing each other in the warm glow of the lamp.

Victor reached out and brushed Yuuri’s bangs aside, strands of moist black hair slipping through his fingers. He took a quick look at Yuuri’s eyes, seeking affirmation more than anything, then let his knuckles trail down his cheek and neck. When no protest came, he slid his hand inside the bathrobe, leaving the shoulder exposed.

They were so close now. Yuuri’s shallow breathing ghosted over Victor’s skin, his heart beating against his own. _Yuri_ was the word for lily in Japanese, and his skin looked just like that, pale and smooth as if he never went outside. Victor couldn’t help himself. He reached further into the robe, running his hands down Yuuri’s shivering flank. Despite the smoothness, he was well toned. Not only his upper body but his legs and calfs . . . his butt.

“So Yuuri, tell me about your boyfriends.” Victor nudged him gently into his side.

Outwardly he sounded playful, but in reality Victor found it almost painful to ask. Since the banquet one year ago, he’d been dying to learn all about Yuuri, especially about his former lovers, but he could be awfully private when it mattered. This was what made tonight, them finally being together and him opening up a little, extra special.

But Yuuri only answered. “I thought you knew. There was no one.” He looked at Victor earnestly, then blinked and lowered his eyes as if he’d said too much already.

“Oh.” Victor swallowed hard. This couldn’t possibly be true, for all he knew, there had to have been many. Victor had always thought that Yuuri was cute, immediately since their drunken dance off, and that was even before he’d learned what a sweet guy he really was. If nothing else, people should be charmed by the depth of his skating.

“Was it because of me?” he asked tentatively, remembering the posters under the bed, though he couldn’t really believe it.

“No, no.” Yuuri seemed horrified by the assumption. “I was merely focused on training.” He shifted on his knees, unconsciously bringing some distance between them. “And I didn’t feel for the others like I do for you,” he added in a low voice.

“No, of course you didn’t . . .” Victor murmured quietly, mostly to himself. “Ah, come here.” He tugged Yuuri close to his chest, feeling his own heart beat faster at the confession.

“You know how it is,” Yuuri mumbled. He relaxed a little as he nuzzled his face into Victor’s bathrobe. “Getting up at five in the morning for training, later dance classes or work out, more ice time. And then attending uni and doing essays in the evening. Trying to fit in at least a little bit.” He paused, took a breath. “Lots of athletes put life one hold for a while, don’t you think? I mean, Pichit has his instagram followers and his hamsters and I . . .” he trailed off.

“Yeah.” Victor felt his chest tighten. Yuuri was right, of course, as he knew too well.

Far too many hours in a freezing rink came to mind, to perfect this movement or that. Afterwards, more often than not, you were so tired that you couldn’t remember your own name, let alone go out and meet people. Victor also recalled that Yuuri didn’t have a big training group in Detroit. This was quite different from Russia, where figure skating was partly state-run. Training groups were large and the competition fierce.

Absentmindedly Victor caressed Yuuri’s back, drawing light patterns with his fingertips. He gazed at the vacant spot on the sofa where Makkachin had slumbered peacefully just moments ago, old memories resurfacing. In Russia your coach and training group were everything. Lots of stuff took place behind closed doors. You didn’t talk to outsiders, and people looked the other way when something happened — pretending this was all normal, just favours exchanged.

Favours, injuries . . . no one said a word. Because in this world only success mattered. Victor paused mid-motion and shook his head to bury those half-forgotten images for good. That was all in the past anyway. There had been nice guys like Chris, too, but that wasn’t until later when he was already becoming famous. Thinking about it, Yuuri had been incredibly lucky to preserve his innocence all these years.

“My Yuuri–” On impulse Victor tightened his hold and pulled him down again, this time for real, both of them tumbling onto the mattress. He quickly cradled Yuuri in his arms and closed his eyes, breathing heavily. He needed to feel Yuuri right now, touch him, because this was different. They were going to erase everything that had happened in the past.

“I’ve been in love with you since I was ten,” Yuuri whispered into the silence.

Victor gasped softly, turning his head to look into those beautiful eyes. This should sound so wrong, but it really didn’t. Yuuri might have been in love with him for years, but he only made is drunken move at last year’s Final. And he had been very cute in doing so, not one bit shy. Victor snuggled up to Yuuri and kissed him full on the mouth without hesitation. To him it sounded very good indeed.

“It will be different when we are in St. Petersburg,” he murmured against soft lips. “I promise.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Hmm.” Victor shifted his weight until he was lying halfway on top of Yuuri. Then pausing, he snuggled his head up to his chest, revelling in the fact that he was allowed to so. After a brief moment, he freed a hand from the tangled covers where he’d just buried it and let it roam Yuuri’s pale skin, delighted how smooth it all felt under his fingertips.

Yuuri’s face was smooth too. There were fine hairs scattered all over it that nobody got to see but him. Victor leant in to rub their cheeks together before he moved downward and grazed his lips with another kiss. “Will you . . .?” he asked, his heart drumming wildly.

“ . . . sleep with you?” Yuuri responded way too calmly, pulling Victor into a closer embrace.

Victor nodded, heat surging to his face and groin. His cock lay nestled between Yuuri’s thighs and the bed. It made him feel stupidly held and secure, and soft sigh escaped him. How could he have ever doubted that Yuuri wanted this?

He closed his eyes contentedly. Lying in bed together, holding each other tight, was the most amazing thing in the world truly. But Victor couldn’t stay still for long. With each passing moment, he wriggled a little in the embrace, something inside him pushing for more. Then with sudden urgency he set up and shed his bathrobe in a fluid motion, flinging it at some spot on the floor. Victor preened when he saw Yuuri’s eyes fix on him at the sight of his naked body.

“So it was me,” Victor grinned now, feeling bolstered by Yuuri’s flustered looks and his earlier confession. He crawled over to him, showing off his well toned abs, and carefully straddled his thighs. He parted the bathrobe next and let his fingers slide down, until he found Yuuri’s cock. He was hard, just like Victor.

“Eros,” Victor murmured pensively. With his free hand he caressed Yuuri’s narrow hips, loving each hitch of breath. “You said you were a woman . . . but, well, that’s not what it feels like.” Victor gave Yuuri a pointed look, deliberately rubbing his cock.

Yuuri inhaled sharply, something akin to panic flitting over his face, though he contained himself just as quickly. “That’s not what I meant,” he swallowed. “I’m not a guy who seduces women and leaves them. I couldn’t play this role. It’s not me!” Yuuri’s tone was still so very earnest, even though he was panting and beads of sweat were popping on his brow. He was adorable.

“But you seduced _me_ ,” Victor said dreamily. He leant sideways, precariously balancing on one arm, as he switched off the lamp. Immediately it went dark in the room, bathing their bed and Yuuri lying on top of mussed up covers in the silvery shine of moonlight.

“You are so beautiful Victor.” Yuuri whispered suddenly into the darkness. “I still can’t believe I found you naked in our outside pool.”

No, Victor couldn’t believe that either, and he found himself shivering as he settled down once more, their bare skin touching for the first time. When had he ever done something foolish like this? Giving up everything on a whim? Victor dropped his head and moaned as their lips brushed, Yuuri’s tongue flickering out and running it over his lips gently.

He tasted a little of katsudon from their victory meal earlier mixed with sulphur from the bath, and Victor felt a sudden surge of longing. He wanted to edge closer and increase the friction between them. His achingly hard cock was pressing into Yuuri’s thigh.

“It was like a dream come true,” Yuuri breathed, momentarily breaking from the kiss, the memories of their first meeting in the onsen lingering. He clung to Victor – clutching him with both hands really – as if he feared he might vanish into thin air like the apparition he’d thought him to be.

A jolt of excitement ripped through Victor upon seeing Yuuri all desperate for him. He pressed a soft kiss to Yuuri’s lips, then trailed off to brush his cheek, his neck, his shoulder . . . slowly pulling away. With one hand he began to blindly search for condom and lube, only guided by his memory and moonlight.

Yes, he’d prepared everything in advance, though he’d never actually believed it would happen tonight.

Wrapping his hand around the cool bottle and sliding the crinkling foil of the condom between his fingers, Victor stilled. Did Yuuri ever sleep with a guy, or have his fingers inside him? Had he been doing something to himself? Victor didn’t ask any of these questions out loud and in a way it didn’t seem to be necessary. What mattered was the now — and Yuuri clinging to him, urging him on.

When Victor grabbed his arse he moaned deeply, and he loved watching Yuuri’s eyes widen as he skimmed his puckered hole. He felt warm and wet inside, the lube dispensing quickly. After only a short preparation, Victor’s fingers were sliding in and out like they were meant for it. “Ahh Yuuri, you feel so . . . good.” He knew he was babbling, but he couldn’t help himself.

Was this what he’d been longing for when he boarded the plane to Japan a few months ago, Victor asked himself dazedly. He still remembered standing forlorn in the entrance hall and being welcomed by Yuuri’s parents who had no idea who he was. Then he had barely time to admire the beautiful house and garden before he was shedding his clothes and immersing himself in the water, waiting for Yuuri to come?

With a start, Victor realised that his mind had been drifting. But Yuuri was holding him tight, and he was kissing him, sloppily, greedily, making soft mewling noises as he rode his fingers. Victor had been mostly on the receiving end of sexual encounters so far, not always willing. However, Yuuri was truly Eros — he wanted Victor inside of him.

“My Yuuri!” Victor groaned, then, inconsequently, freed himself and sat up. With trembling fingers he ripped off the foil of the condom and pulled it over his leaking cock. He just couldn’t wait any longer. And Yuuri who was curled up beside him seemed to feel the same, seeing how he was wriggling with anticipation, a pleading look in his eyes.

Victor’s chest tightened with a flash of unease. He really didn’t want to screw this up. Carefully he leant down to capture Yuuri’s lips for another kiss before he grabbed his hips and positioned himself. It was hard for Yuuri to take him still.

Victor paused after the first tentative push, barely breaching the ring of muscles, not wanting to hurt him. As he carried on he watched Yuuri closely for any signs of distress, and when he gasped or screwed his eyes shut, Victor stilled with him, stroking his face, his neck. Gently, ever so gently he thrust forward until he could feel Yuuri relax around him. With a sigh, buried himself deep inside.

They were both panting now, Victor leaning heavily on his forearms to keep himself from crushing Yuuri with his weight. Everything in him screamed to push on and at the same time to slow it down.

“Victor … please,” Yuuri begged, fixing him with his bright eyes, his arse clenching around Victor’s cock like a welcome.

Emboldened by Yuuri’s eagerness, Victor started to move more steadily, still cataloguing each indrawn breath and flinch of his body. But soon he realised that they were rocking together, Yuuri probably willing him to speed up. Victor dipped down for more sweet kissing and thrust deep. Yuuri lifted his legs up and linked them together behind Victor’s back, pulling him further in.

The strength and flexibility of a figure skater was really unique, Victor marvelled. His lust addled brain provided him with helpful images of all the different positions they could try out and how they might feel, heavily inspired by their acrobatics on the pole at the drunken dance off. But for this time – their first time – simple seemed to be more than enough.

Sucking the fine skin of Yuuri’s neck into his mouth, Victor wormed one hand between their sweating bodies and grabbed his cock, wanting to make it good. Yuuri groaned and tightened his grip on Victor’s shoulders. Victor started out nice and slow, but soon his strokes got more frantic, just like his thrusts, Yuuri bucking greedily into his hand.

It was almost too much to hold it all together. Victor knew he was losing his rhythm fast, glorious heat pooling in his groin and filling his cock, threatening to explode. He bit his lip hard, trying to concentrate . . . he didn’t want to come first. A few more jerks with his hand, and then Yuuri was shuddering beneath him. He convulsed around him, sticky wetness spurting between their bellies.

“Victor,” Yuuri gasped, his face flushed from the exertion. He gazed up at him, trembling and pliable, spend.

And wasn’t this the most beautiful sight in the world? Victor’s heart was racing, drumming in his chest. And finally, mercifully, he could let go as well. With each thrust into the warm body he could feel his control slip a little more and dissolve into pleasure, his own orgasm flying high before it came crashing down on him like the roar of the crowd after a successful performance.

And just like after any good performance Victor felt like falling, plunging deep from the soaring heights of victory to some desolate place of his own making.

Something stirred near him. There was a fine puff of air and then lips brushing his cheek. When Victor opened his eyes, he squinted at Yuuri’s blurred face, and his heart skipped a beat. This time he wasn’t alone. Yuuri was staying with him. In fact, he had never left him, securing him snugly in his arms.

Is this really your first time? Victor didn’t dare ask. It figured that Yuuri, with his kind heart, would be naturally good at it. Feeling strangely reassured, Victor rolled over to his side, disposed of the condom, and lifted his arms above his head, stretching languidly. It was a first for him too, he mused, his first with Yuuri. Everything would be different from now on . . . and nothing really. Victor smiled.

A scratch on the door reminded Victor that Makka was still huddling outside. Excusing himself, he disentangled himself from the warm bundle that was Yuuri and hopped off the bed. He opened the door to let Makkachin in, burying his hand in his fur, as he shoved him to his spot on the sofa. Turning back to the bed, he caught sight of Yuuri lying in the moonlight, looking at him in a way he could only describe as pure bliss.

“Victor, please come here. Come back to me. I want...” he murmured drowsily.

“Miss me already?” Victor beamed as he padded back. Yuuri didn’t need to explain himself. Victor knew what it felt like being in love. Yuuri might be an ice prince – his little prince – but he was no virgin. And surely he wasn’t unapproachable. Victor lifted the duvet with one hand and cuddled next to his boyfriend . . . maybe even his fiancé.

There was nothing to worry about.

The End


End file.
